


Seven Sets of Three

by Yche



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Original Fiction, Original Universe, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-22 21:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23767306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yche/pseuds/Yche
Summary: The Order has been around since the beginning of time. They've gone through every possible combination of events throughout history.Made up of like minded people, with no identities, fueled by their desire to create a perfect world. Their drive and need to fix this and change that, mark the foundation of their group. Eons of time and history spent together chasing after a dream of making everything right. All addicted to the rush of imposing their own godly will on timelines and dimensions. Of slowly formulating a master plan for fixing a specific part of history, in a specific reality, within the intricate map that the Order navigates.All of that time, melds together, their numbers fluctuate, but never exceed the set amount. The only steadfast member, unchanging in all the years, sits at the head of the group, and even they don't know how it started. Yet they're still human. Every one of them, sure their life spans may range wider than others, and their bodies age dramatically slower, aside from their set abilities within their own group, they're still human, and like all humans they die. However the position they leave is not something easily filled.





	1. Something's off

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm new at writing, and this isn't about a specific fandom. It's just a story I made up, which I think I'll make into a story or something. If you end up reading it, then great! If you want leave some feedback, I'd love to know what I can improve on, but honestly I'm just doing this for fun. I'll be updating every other day, but mainly on tuesdays and thursdays.

The room is cold. I peak out from under my covers and glare at my alarm clock. There's no sound yet, the clock's ticking ridiculously slow. What a great way to grate on my nerves so early in the morning. All of my blanket is tucked underneath my body, yet I still don't feel safe. At this time, my house is quiet, it's disturbing. Is the alarm clock in the wrong spot? No, it’s always been there, the drawer hasn’t been moved either, there’d be indents in the carpet.. Since waking up randomly, way earlier than I usually do, the feeling that something’s wrong hasn’t left. This sucks, getting out of bed feels almost dangerous in some absurd way. From my position, under the covers, I can only really see the left side of my room. The problem is that my closet and door are towards the foot of my bed. For all I know there could be someone standing there, staring at me, holding their breath, waiting for an opening to kill me. Dramatic, but still possible.

There’s a door opening and closing, and a shower turning on. Alright so my mom’s up, great she can save me from whatever’s gonna kill me. Why the hell am I awake now this is way earlier than normal. It’s too early in the morning. I can move my hand so I know it's not sleep paralysis, so then what is it? There's no natural light in my room. I can only really make out shadows in the corner of my room, I briefly glance at my mirror on top of my drawer, then look away, I'm scared something will pop up in the reflection.

"Ya levantense!"

I stiffen up, and hold my breath. I can hear my mom waking the boys up, I need to get up, but I’m still hesitant. Mom’s always going on and on about how important it is to get a head start on the day, but a head start might as well sign off on my will. It’s not even that I’m unnerved, the feeling of in fight or flight mode just won’t leave. It’s like I’m a cornered animal in my own room. Ok calm the fuck down, now. Close your eyes if you have to and just get up. I prepare myself to throw off the blankets. Mom’s yelling is steadily getting louder, she’s starting to get annoyed. There's nothing in my room, I'm being childish. Breath you dumbass, there's nothing there! One...two...now! I rip the blanket off of me, and whirl around to face the door. Nothing. There's nothing there. My closet door’s open, but my bedroom door is closed. A picture of my family is still hanging next to the door, my mom and dad, and two younger brothers are smiling in the picture. My room is barren, but that’s not the issue. Past my door I can hear my mom’s footsteps. 

"Levantate!" My mom all but growls out at my door, and that’s all the pressure I need to get my ass up. God knows I've got shit to do.

Nervously trudging towards the pile of clean clothing for a pair of jeans might as well be hell. I don’t bother with the tee shirt since I slept in the one I was planning on wearing today. I purposely avoid the mirror and start to brush my teeth. My mom is rushing around the house collecting things in her bag, but that’s not surprising, no matter how early she gets up, she always ends up running to catch the bus. She always picks up one of the boys and carries them around, sometimes upside down, most time rightside up. They squeal and struggle, she’ll kiss them on the cheek, then throw them on the couch or the bed. Small little signs of bonding, she works so much the boys basically compete for those few seconds of getting scooped up and flung around. She’ll rush around while going on and on about how lazy they are, she’ll give an extensive list of the things they forgot to do yesterday; washing dishes, cleaning their rooms, and essentially the rest of the house, things like that. I know she makes the list impossible to complete, but she likes seeing Nan’s little bitch ass trying to argue with her. The boys will laugh, and play dumb, all the while she'll pretend to keep threatening them. Half way through she'll switch gears and start rattling off things I need to have done by tomorrow as if I don’t already have all of it written down -in ten different places. With me her tone will change a little, a slight hardness that I catch on too. Whatever it's not that I’m bitter, just impatient. I mean when are those little goblins gonna grow up and take some of the workload? I’m dying here. Honestly the amount of things I have to do on a regular basis is some serious Cinderella bullshit.

Once she’s done, then she's out the door, just like that. With coffee in one hand and some fruit in the other, today she's eating an apple. How she wakes up with that amount of energy, I'd rather not find out. By then I've gotten my brothers dressed, and I'm shuffling around the kitchen, giving them cereal for breakfast, so that their damn teacher doesn't get an attitude with mom about the importance of proper nutrition again.

My mom always makes sure to leave in around fifteen minutes flat. She’s lucky since we live kind of close to the bus stop, but even so, when she doesn’t hurry she ends up missing the bus, and then her day just goes to shit. The boys never outright say anything about it anymore. Dad's already been long gone since four in the morning, he'll come back around five, then leave again at around nine to ten at night. He's gone so much, the boys are convinced he lives somewhere else. Right now they're going on and on about some tv show they've been watching. I glance their way every now and then, just to make sure they're eating and not hiding their food, there’s a tightness in my stomach. I catch my reflection briefly in the window, of course my eyes are puffy from lack of sleep, of course my hairs a mess, and of course there’s no creamer. Well what the hell do I do now? The antsy feeling that I’ve been feeling all day is starting to surface up even stronger than in the morning.

“Yo, where’s the creamer?” The minute the questions out of my mouth I regret everything. The boys start talking at once, listing random people all the way from our neighbors to my mom. I shouldn’t have asked them, that’s on me, no caffeine has literally made me a dumbass.

“Pepe drank it, mom drank my orange juice.” Who the fuck is Pepe? 

Leno must of fucked up saying that, cause Nan gets the most overly scandalized look ever, he tells Leno that, “Pepe is lacrose-in-taller dummy, she can’t drink it.”

I take deep breaths in order to calm myself down, and only then do I manage to speak up and ask, “It’s pronounced lactose intolerant and who’s Pepe?” Neither reply, seriously it’s like I don’t exist. Did I miss them getting an imaginary friend or is this someone I don’t know. Is that what’s different?

Leno’s voice all of a sudden gets loud, “Dad drank it,” I look up and sure enough he’s got his hand on the counter, trying to make himself taller while glowering at Nan. This is ridiculous dad hates coffee.

“Nuh-uh, when would he have time?”

“Duh at night, he’s a vampire, remember?” That’s when I finally manage to cut him off and say in my sternest voice, “dad not a vampire, now stop fighting!” They thankfully sit down immediately. I know it makes my parents sad but at times like this, when a simple question'll make them start to fight, it’s good being their authoritarian figure. 

While I’m leaning against the counter I notice that even though Nan’s still dressed in his pajamas, Leno at the very least put on his nice button up shirt. He starts moving his cup around, trying to use it as a mirror, he’s continuously patting his hair down, somehow he’s already finished his cereal. What a little multitasker. He inherited dad’s tightly coiled hair, recently he’s put less of an effort at attempting to get me to stop styling it for him. He even gets the stool ready and everything for when I’m gonna detangle his hair. Unlike him, Nan has thick straight hair. It goes everywhere and is just as hard to take care of. I mean his hair wouldn’t be an issue if he’d just brush it out, but he’s decided that he’s got a vendetta against brushes. They don’t look anything alike, other than being little and brown with mops of black hair, they’re just different. I mean come on, their hair is even different in texture for fucks sake. When I'm working at the mechanics with dad, he’ll tease me about not being able to deal with a set of curly haired twins. Honestly next time dad says that they may as well be twins, Imma take those two little shits to the factory so that dad can do their hair, just to see him try to tell me it’s the same thing. I kind of wanna do it honestly, dad's coworkers are hilarious to talk to.

"No! That's not right! Bucky can't lose to him, because, because..." I wince when Leno all but screeches at Nan, he’s stopped fussing over his hair long enough to shoot Nan the most judgmental look only an eight year could manage. God damn I can feel another argument start to happen.

I start to go through my reminders, going through the reminders on my phone is one of the most crucial parts of my morning. Some are from the mechanics, some from my dad’s friends who wanna see if I can do some jobs for them, and others from the school club group chats that I was forced to join. Once I’m done I start to look through the cupboards, trying to decide what I need to get from the stores. I can hear the boy's incessant voices going up a few octaves to prove their points. It's grating on my nerves. Fuck! I’m tired, even focusing on picking up on parts of their argument is difficult, much less figuring out what the fuck is wrong. The feeling is still there, it hasn’t died down. If I could just focus for long enough I could figure out what is wrong. I breathe in and breathe out when they start trying to get my opinion on life or death matter. I start to shake my leg and alternate between looking impatiently at my phone, or at the layout of our small trailer house. I set my phone down a little too harsh on the table, what am I missing? I round on the fridge and look through the list of things that need to be done. Neither mom or dad left a note on the table, there's no reminder that I'm missing. What the hell am I missing?

There’s starting to be a slight pounding on my temple. I think I’m getting full on panicky, my pulse is beating loud and I can feel something moving, something’s changing. Fuck I need to get focused, why the hell didn’t I buy creamer last time I did the groceries! Maybe dying young wouldn't be so bad, I mean people do drink coffee black, it's possible, it's not that unheard of. I need at the very least one cup of coffee in the mornings to be able to form cohesive thoughts and since I woke up two hours earlier today I'm thinking I need two cups to even it out.

There’s a feeling in my throat, sick, I feel sick, but everything is normal; The kitchen, the living room, the window's open, I can see the neighbors... Nothing's changed! The boys are still two absorbed in their argument. Everything’s normal for them, why aren’t they feeling like something’s off? It’s the house, it has to be the house. The furniture isn't moved, no windows are open. I go into every room, look under every bed, rummage through the closets, lift up clothes from the dirty pile, move pictures, and still nothing. My movements were slow at first, now I’m frantically running around investigating every possible place in this damn house. Everything is there, but not there at the same time. Everything I walk by -I touch. If only to see if my mind is lying to me by telling me that it’s there. I stop and glance sharply to the side, but I don't know what I'm trying to catch. The nagging thought of there being a film over every belonging in this house is starting to be at the forefront of my mind. I can't find anything! I walk through every room at least six or seven times. I retrace every step I've taken, and yet the itch stays there. Stubbornly attached to the back of my head, and the room feels like it’s about to start spinning.

By the time seven comes around I'm angrily pacing around the living room floor, and the argument the boys were having has finally deescalated from a screaming match to a moody conversation between the two boys. WHAT IS DIFFERENT?

“UGH!” I let a loud groan, this is infuriating! The boys stop and look at me, midway through their conversation.

I rub my head and look around, “Do either of you know if something’s different?” Nan scoffs and shakes his head no, while Leno starts to look around.

“Damn,” I breathe out exasperated, I grab chunks of my hair and pull trying to get some sort of clarity, but I don’t know what that is exactly. There's a long pause, then I finally feel it. Something feels like it’s snapping. Into place maybe? I really can’t tell. When did my breathing get so heavy? I need a grip, my alarm goes off, it’s time to go to the bus. 

“Come on, deep breaths, just deep breaths,” I whisper. I brace myself, then look up and say, “let’s go, we’re gonna be late to the bus.” I grab my backpack then head for the door. 

My footsteps fall rapidly on the pavement and behind me I can hear Leno scrambling to keep up with me. We get to the bus stop when the bus driver is barely pulling up. I stand back a little bit, while the boys go in. The feeling’s still there, all though now, for some reason it’s not as intense. Did I have a panic attack or something? I nod politely at the driver, then I go as far as seeing if the damn bus changed sizes. The streets are still the same, and now the feeling is almost not even there.

Leno’s rummaging through his backpack. I give him a once over, before sitting down in front of them. As the bus makes it’s route, before long we’re there. I think I’m just gonna have to deal with this. I can’t figure out what’s wrong, and I feel like I’m too dumb to figure it out either way. Why not just give up! I scoff at the back side of the seat, I’m officially in a bad mood. The girl sitting in front turns around and raises an eyebrow at me. I stare back and keep eye contact till she finally turns back around.

\---

When we get to school the nagging has died down to a barely there whisper. It’s distant enough that I can fully focus on other things. Once we’re off the bus, I turn around and grab Leno’s hand, then head to the elementary school. Leno’s got a bad habit of running around the school if someone doesn’t walk him to his homeroom, and I’m the lucky bitch who gets to walk him there, since his teachers got fed up with having to do it. Aside from running around in the mornings, he also gives his teacher so much shit that my mom actually had to learn a few apologetic phrases in English for when they call her. Apparently I used to be just as shitty as him, since dad’s constantly making jokes about how horrible it would be if they had another kid. Mom says if she can name him Hernan after her dad, then she’d be fine with it. For my sake I hope it stays a joke.

I can only really deal with one little brother at the moment. I got a shit ton to do, and I still can’t figure out what I’m missing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! Hopefully I've improved on something!

I have a step by step routine for when I get up in the morning. Set 1 consists of laying in bed for exactly five minutes, since I just need time to accept the cruel reality that is not dying in my sleep. I’ve already coasted past step 2, 3, and 4. Right now, step 5 is kicking my ass. I decided that today's one of those days where I’m just gonna look like that bitch. I didn’t really wanna go for my, ‘’I lowkey look like shit, but I’m still cute though’ look. But this color is not correct, it’s literally not doing anything for me. It legit sat up in bed, looked at my bitch ass and really said, with it’s whole chest, “Her eyelids gon look like Patrick Star fucked her shit up after she came on too strong at the club.” What sucks is that I can’t even be properly offended on my own behalf. There’s been a tightness in my throat all morning, and I can feel that something's off. 

“Ooo Kay,” I let out an obnoxiously loud breath, “It’s nothing. AND! You don’t care if it is something. As far as you’re concerned; shit’s the same.”

“Ada have you finished getting dressed?”

Ignore it. Ignore it! It’s not even that uncomfortable, you’re stomachs just spontaneously decided to start boxing with your throat, as if it was a WWE wrestler. Cocking my head and sitting up a little taller, I critically examine my artwork...humf, Patrick really did give me the whole pink eye aesthetic, that I never knew I needed. Oh well, pink eye or no pink eye, I still have a reputation to uphold, because ladies and gentlemen, I. Am. That bitch.

“Yes mom!” The sharp stab of pain that shoots through my temple is such a whore. 

“Ok then honey? Hurry up and get down stairs, else you’ll be late for school...again.” Her voice gets slightly quiet towards the end...but her obvious disappointment is not what’s important. Why? Why is her voice…? Why is it coming from my right. Has my door always been next to my desk OR did my desk fucking move? I squint my eyes and push myself away from my desk towards the center of my room. The pain and uneasy feeling starts to slowly subside. It’s so subtle that it vaguely registers with me.

Shouldn’t I be able to sense this shit out? I mean, two weeks of meditation has to hold up to something! Ah yes...I figured it out! I’m an evil genius making an important discovery, a breakthrough if you will! The side of my mouth pulls up into my best sinister smile, and it feels like something is unfurling in my mind, and that something gives way to pure panic. The ridges on my desk have been pulling at my attention. ALL MORNING! Jagged and sloppy; the masterpiece that my freshman year consisted of perfecting -for a whole four days! My work of art...is upside down… and my ROOM...is facing the wrong...DIRECTION!? FUCK, did I drink last night!? I double over slightly when my knee knocks into my desk, getting up from my seat makes everything even worse, my ceiling’s higher, it has to be! and of course, the floor’s cold! 

My mom’s cooking bacon for my dad! The sizzling is just about the loudest thing in this house, and I can’t focus, which sucks since I’m in the middle of a crisis. I mean am going crazy? Why is my room rearranged? The door should not be next to my desk, is this real?! My window isn’t even facing the street, I’m not gonna be able to throw shit that one kid that always walks by! HOW THE HELL does a window MOVE!

Thud, Thud, Thud. “Someone,” Thud, “rearranged,” Thud, “my room,” Thud.

“Ada Gallagher! Stop closing and opening that door, and get down here!” Take a fucking breath. You’re alright! You’re just being stupid. No one. Rearranged. Your room. You would have noticed, get a hold of yourself, you dumb bitch and calm down!

A strangled breath fights its way past my mouth, and I shake myself sharply, then yell out, “coming!”

I’m not even all the way off the stairs and dad’s already on his morning tangent about me not appreciating them enough, and being spoiled, and I’m just such a monster…

“Ada are you listening to me?”

No, I don’t want to. Wanna know WHY? It’s because every morning some new bullshit is coming out of your mouth and I don’t have the time to educate you. YOU’RE A LOST CAUSE!

“Sorry! I’m running late, love you guys, bye!” God the smell of a coward reeks!

\---

The room is sterile, it’s pure white, the machines are whirling and running smoothly. I pick up a needle and stare my patient down. I’m ‘bouta flex on this bitch and save her whole career. She got wheeled into the hospital screaming like a banshee about how her ex could still fucking get it, while her brother’s sexy ass explained to me that she had a tumor in her leg and needed it cut out. It’s my first day on the job and nothing is going correctly, but I had been the most promising intern. The Attendings could all see that whenever I decided to get on my grind, I would obliterate them in terms of talent. The patient however was the only thing I could have on my mind right now. This chick must of been a weight lifter because wrestling her down and trying to cut the tumor was fucking difficult. Half way through surgery that’s when it happened she dad--

“Ms. Gallagher, wake up!” Mrs. Wallace just kicked me out of my daydream. Wow. She gives me a stern look, before continuing with whatever she was saying. She legit is the bane of my existence.

I could take her, I literally could take her. Mrs. Wallaq has been droning on and on for the last twenty minutes of class, and honestly not an ounce of what she’s said has registered with me. I have better things to do than listen to you woman! I was saving lives! Who the fuck even needs calculus? It doesn’t matter in the real world, what really matters is if you can shut a bitch up when they start testing you, and you know what! Adalies nasty ass has been testing me all morning!

We have almost every one of our classes together, which is horrible, because aside from that we might as well have grown up together. Meaning our parents go to the same church, they hang out with all the sin free residents of this frustratingly little town. She, like every good god abiding Christian, snitches on me. I know she does. How else would dad get wind of half the shit I do? The minute there’s a lapse in Mrs. Wallaq lecture, I turn towards Adalies and quietly hiss at her, “Something up? Why do you keep looking at me?”

The sly grin that she slaps on her face is the first thing of hers that grates on my nerves. “Oh? No, nothing's up,” her voice is unnecessarily high pitched, “it’s just that...your makeup’s really different today,” if her tone had been more condescending I feel like I really would have started to gag.

Ugh! Oh my god. What a cliche! “Bite me,” I bite out, and I make sure it comes out a little too enthusiastically, so that she gets confused. 

Ugh this sucks! Staring at the board, trying to make sense of some fucked up gibberish, while the clock, ticks on and on and on! The hallways never get shorter, they just get longer. My classes never get interesting, they get lamer. I’m honestly the most exciting person here, I can feel it, in my bones. I don’t know about my other classmates, much less about my teachers, but I feel like they’re incapable of being remotely interesting! Where’s all the inspiration that life’s supposed to give you? Everyone that I’m around just sucks it up like a leech, and they don’t even share. They’re stealing my inspiration, and making me slowly rot from the inside out. I could give less of a fuck if that’s dramatic! For fucks sake! Videos, random thoughts, a fucking leaf falling, hell the dog across the street’s more entertaining than most normal things in my life! That’s what inspires me. If I’m curious about something, I figure it out, but no matter what I do, my life goes back to staying the same. 

Normally when school ends, that marks the beginning of my day, that’s when everything officially starts. I get to do whatever I want, saiting my boredom is all I dedicate my days to. ‘Cause I’m spoiled and I don’t work. It’s not even like I don’t want to work, my parents are the ones that force me not to work. What’s worse is that explaining it to people is near impossible, cause they just look at me like, ‘really you couldn’t’ve come up with a better lie, as to why you’re so damn lazy?’ Everytime I get caught doing something that for some ungodly reason others deemed as stupid, immature, or just unnecessary, I have to look them in the face and as a seventeen year old tell them, that I had nothing better to do. I want a job! It’s at the top of my christmas list every fucking year!

Today isn’t even gonna start. I have to go volunteer at some church thing. Then I have to attend tutoring that my dad set up, cause he’s convinced I’m driven enough to go into some ghastly long career, that unfortunately requires hours upon hours of sitting through lectures. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but that means that I won’t be able to have any free time before seven. Seven just so happens to be the time my dad decided was appropriate for me to have as my curfew. No one’s ever home at that time.

And worst of all, that infernal ticking is still going on. MY FUCK! If this isn’t the best example of my everyday life. Just a boring shit show! The minute that bell rings, I’m gonna walk across the street in hopes that a truck will hit, just so that I get a little bit of spice in my life!

\--

My house is quiet. The click of my door closing, is the loudest thing in the house. Nothing is happening. Nothing is moving, at this time it feels like the world is dead, and worst of all, no meteor has come crashing through the wall declaring me the new alien queen. Damn, this is such a drag.


	3. He Disappeared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally meet each other, when the third one of the set finally manages to see through everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok this the last part of the introduction to the main characters! Yay

“Dude you on your period or something?” His voice is quiet and almost timid. There's the slight uplift to it that he gets whenever he’s trying to make a joke. I do that.

There’s a softness to him that’s meant to put me at ease, I mean he’s definitely trying. He’s rubbing my back, but the rhythmic circles are doing anything but helping. In fact. I’m gonna puke. It’s coming up my throat, I need to-I need to cough or something. 

Fighting my body's refusal to let a sound is near unfeasible at first. The words that are finally produced through my quiet hyperventilation, come out airy and meek. “No...I’m-I’m...not ok.” 

Unlike my futile attempt at reassurance, I burst from my seat in a flurry of panic. The chair hits the floor with a loud thud, Clarisa lets out a startled yell when I half stumble half run past her desk. I really need to remember to apologize, waking up to your desk being jerked around must definitely not be ideal. She’s already looking away when the pain re-intrudes, on my intrusive thoughts. Sharp pain shoots through my shoulder, and somehow that makes the pain in my stomach flare up even more. Black dots smudge the corners of my eyes.

“Dude! Careful!” He brutishly yanks me up, just before the floor reaches up to meet me. The light’s flare up and my senses get into hyper sensitivity. Thankfully he had, keeping track of what’s up and down right now is too much for me to focus on. If it hadn’t been for him, there’s no way I would’ve gotten to the trash can.

“Hey, he ok?”

My feeble attempt at throwing out a sorry towards Taylors retreating figure gets drowned out by his shoes. Taylor’s shoes squeak obnoxiously loud, and the pounding in my head amplifies it to the max. 

“Yeah, no worries, he’s fine.” His ‘fine’ has an edge to it. He’s getting unnerved, I can tell. Why can I tell? His voice simultaneously sounds like the most familiar and most alien thing in my life.

“Dude, you’re shaking!” There’s a slight tremor when his hand grips onto my shoulder even harder than before. He’s small and lean, but there’s a surprising amount of strength in my hold. I mean his hold. His. Hold.

“I’m trying...to breathe!” My breathing is coming out more like short little yells, that are more haggard than deep and calm. Vaguely attempting to shake him off, while at the same time replying to him and trying to suck in air is hands down the hardest thing I’ve done! Too much, it’s too much to do, but he won't let go of me!

“Hey.” His hand. “Snap out of it.” It’s foreign. He’s gripping onto the back of my head, it keeps lulling back, I don’t have enough strength to keep it up. Focusing on his face is a gradual thing that slowly starts to come to me. There’s so much emotion there, and a wave of guilt washes over me, because-because I don’t know him!

His hair is brown, his nose is pointed, his face in general is actually pretty small with delicate features. Just like me, he looks exactly like me, but he’s my twin, that’s normal! So why? Why doesn’t it feel natural, his voices, his hands, everything about him is unnatural! 

We stare at each other for a few minutes. He’s worried, he’s incredibly close to panicking, his eyes are getting red, and they’ve glassed over. He’s patting my back, and asking if I want my-our mom to pick me up, but he’s-he’s not real.

“Who-Who are you? AH!” Convulsion jerks my body around and he nearly drops me. Red hot pain explodes out of nowhere from my right temple, and I temporarily lose my vision. But it comes back right when he becomes transparent. I can even see Ada’s tall, no short, stature walking towards her locker. Her blonde, no brown hair is clear as day. It’s tied up? Since when was it long enough to tie up? The pressure from his hand disappears for a moment and my focus snaps back to him. My heavy breathing is all I hear as I sit across from him. He’s staying stone still, not one muscle of his is moving.

The dejected look that comes over him is almost enough to make me take it back, but suddenly it feels like there’s a shred clarity. 

“Aiden, it’s me. I’m...I’m your twin…” And just like that, my fever breaks. 

“No you’re not,” I breathe out.

Heavy silence hangs over us, I stare and that’s all I see, just a mirage. Then everything lurches forward, and finally, finally, that sick feeling I’ve been feeling all morning leaves. Then something’s dragging me back, gripping onto my shoulders, and snapping back into place, but only for a split second.The world lurches forward and everything rushes back. He’s no longer there, and Ada’s making her way towards me, we briefly make eye contact and then she’s walking past me towards her next class.

\---

My twin just disappeared! There’s a distant yell down the hall, “where! The fuck! Am I!?” Ada’s voice comes out from somewhere towards my right and down an unknown corridor. It should’ve come from behind me, I mean that’s where she was heading. There’s a tightness to her voice, and it shakes towards the end of her question. I’m pretty sure she’s panicking, I mean even an idiot could tell her a few minutes away from a full blown freak out. Nausea hits when I stand up, but surprisingly it immediately goes away...just-just like my twin who...disappeared. ‘Cause yeah, that’s totally-totally normal. Finding Ada is easy, her yelling bounces off the walls, and it’s almost like she is echolocating me. 

“Ada!” Once I yell out her name, the squeaking of her shoes stop, “Ada over here!”

Her voice takes on an accusatory tone, “Who’s calling? Who’s that!” Her feet start pounding towards me, and just as I’m rounding the corner she’s already halfway through the hall. She’s terrifying, her face red and she might as well be fuming from the ears, her hair even looks like a lion's mane. When she takes note of me she stops, and I can clearly see her trying to remember who I am. Fourth period English, I sit next to her. Yep, that kinda hurts, and this is getting awkward.

“Where-where are all the others?” Better to figure out what’s happening, rather than soak in all the painful awkwardness. I don’t get a reply. She swings her head around and hazardously whips her body this way and that, erratically trying to figure everything out. I don’t know what she’s trying to figure out, or see for that matter. The walls of the corridor are bare, and there’s an emptiness outside, it’s a corn field actually, and it’s empty. I don’t even get that uneasy feeling from staring into the outskirts of an empty corn field, I just get a hollow feeling, as if it’s not even the type of place a murder wants to stake out in.

Someone calmly walks out from a corridor that connects into the hallway that we’re in. Ada and I stare at them, “why are you two here?” It’s Jaime, on the surface they’re calm, I can tell that much, but they’re standing stiff straight. Their eyes have a hard set to them. Everyone only ever says how serious they look all the time, which they do, but sometimes the dark circles under their eyes give off a more tired sad look. It’s actually how they look right now.

“Um-uh we’re-we don’t…”

Ada’s hard voice cuts through my bad attempt at explaining,“who the hell are you?”

Jaime gives her a once over, and I feel like they already decided that they don’t have enough time for Ada, “I’m Jaime, I’m in your science class. Calm the fuck down, you’re panicking and we don’t even know what the hell we should be panicking about.” Ada has an affronted look on her face and just when she’s about to shoot a reply Jaime starts in again.

“I’m fucking calm.” That wild look on her face still hasn’t left. For a minute I feel like she’ll lose it and start fighting, I mean she’s certainly picked fights over way less. Except Jaime doesn’t even seem bothered. Nothing ever bothers Jaime, not school fire, or an earth evacuation, and certainly not some desolate high school. They’ve been through stuff, or they've got the Urbach-Wiethe disease, apparently it legit doesn’t let you feel-was that really my brother?

“Do you know where we’re at?”

“No.” Ada’s getting fed up, she’s pacing erratically around.

“Do you have a plan?” At least Jaime’s still somewhat patient.

“NO.” Ok. She’s gonna start yelling.

“Are you in the right state of mind!” Aaand now Jaime’s voice is raising.

“PROBABLY NOT!” Of course, now we’re definitely getting nowhere.

“Then for fucks sake, make yourself useful, come up with a plan, OR JUST DON’T GET IN THE WAY!” That gets me to flinch, and Ada finally stops pacing. They stare at each other for a few seconds. Jaime doesn’t yell, they don’t talk in general, but when they do, they definitely don’t yell. I’m actually kind of similar, I also never talk and when there’s drama or trouble I stay out of it, but the difference is exactly that. They do everything differently. They exert a confidence about them that makes it so that no one questions them when they actually do start talking. Even when they’re getting irritated they don’t yell, they reprimand instead. They’re like those irritating CEO’s that don’t take you seriously when you start to get emotional. They shift their attention over to me, and if Ada burns me alive with her gaze, Jaime freezes me with theirs. 

“Have you guys tried finding the exit?” I dumbly shake my head no, and finally manage to walk up to both of them, “Ok well then that’s first order of business.” I start shaking my head yes, because they’re taking control, and right now both Ada and I need someone to tell what to do. Who better to take charge than Jaime, they’re amazing, they’re the only ones who can look Ada in the face and call her out on her bad attitude.

“Fuck! Well that’s great, I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that! Where the hell is it then? Since you obviously seem to know everything!” Ada doesn’t even seem mad. Now that I’m up close to her, I can tell that her eyes are darting around, and I feel like she’s just scared, or nervous.

Jaime stares at Ada while they wait for her to calm down. They’ve got a slightly surprised look on their face, and for a second I’m not sure they don’t know what to do, when they start talking there’s an evident sign of frustration and little to no patience.

“Are you gonna be difficult? We don’t have time for difficult. Cause if you’re gonna be difficult then I don’t want you with me.”

Once she’s calmed down enough, she rolls her eyes, “No I’m not gonna be difficult.” Jaime blinks, nods once, then turns around and starts walking down the hall again. And just like that, we spend the next half hour or so going down every corridor we can find. The reason I know that is because there’s a clock in every single hallway. The atmosphere is unbreathable. Ada will jerk her head towards a corridor, and Jaime won't even bother nodding their head yes, they’ll just start heading in the direction that Ada offered. 

We’ve hit our fifth dead end when Ada speaks up again, “What if we break a window?” Jaime shrugs their shoulders while they stare at the wall. They keep rolling their head this way and that, then they finally look towards Ada. They both hold eye contact, and then they both turn around and look at me. I could’ve sworn they forgot that I was even there. I’ve been wandering around with them, always a few steps behind, and I haven’t said all that much. Now I’m on the spot and it sucks.

“I’m-I”m sure there’s something we can find to-break the window. I can-I can look,” having people not know who I am, even after sitting next to them for a whole semester, stings, but having two pairs of eyes look at me with thinly concealed impatience, might as well kill me. 

I wish I were like them, I wish I could just...be useful at the very least. I mean it’s three of us here, and so far only two of us have made attempts to get out of here. I mean a while back I was on the ground facing some insane medical emergency with a twin I’ve never had! I must’ve looked distraught because something clicks with Ada, she nods slowly, starts to mumble, then faces Jaime, “hey, leave the puppy alone. He’s probably scared shitless right now,” she nudges Jaime’s shoulder, “and you’re no nonsense attitude isn’t fucking helping.”

“The hell are you talking about,” Jaime’s got an offended look on her face, “it’s not like I'm the one looking at him as if he’s the thing we’ll use to break the damn window!”

Ada scoffs, “Well it’s not like it’d be hard to throw him.” Well that hurt. 

Jaime lets out a frustrated, “stop,” and Ada shoots me a ‘what did I do wrong look’ then points a finger towards Jaime, as if telling me to do something.

“We’ve-we’ve been walking around for like thirty minutes...and like we haven’t been able to open a door...there’s like nothing in the hallways...don’t you think breaking the window will be a bit hard...it’s not like we’re strong enough to punch through them.” Ok well I’m not that surprised that getting all that out was so hard to do. They both stood there waiting patiently for me to say what I needed to say, and honestly that’s the most people do for me, even though Ada could barely manage to stay still. Ada lets out a strangled groan, and pushes her hands through her hair. Okay well, nevermind, Jaime was at least nice enough to hear me out.

They look at me with pity, then gruffly says, “speak up a bit.” I nod back and then all three of us start looking around for something to break the window.


End file.
